Loud Silence
by Chloes-Cheese
Summary: SPOILERS. Slight AU. Herc didn't break his arm at Hong Kong, Raleigh did when Gipsy Danger landed. Instead Stacker jockeys with Mako for the final battle and blow up Gipsy to give Striker more time. The Hansens succeed and survive, leaving Chuck to face the aftermath of a war he never thought he'd see the end of and consumed with guilt over Mako's death. slight Chuck/Mako.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my feels and my hundreds of angsty Chuck survives fic ideas.**

**Author's Note: This was an idea I'd originally meant to give as a prompt to ironheartedprincess but then I was inspired to give it a try myself. It was an idea that ran away with me but I'm very pleased with how it turned out.**

**Much thanks to Sylvana for being my beta for my runaway Pacific Rim fics.**

Chuck had always been loud- loud and angry; angry at the Kaiju, angry at his dad, and angry at the world. He'd never been shy about letting others know that; through snarky replies, through arguments, through shouted rants, or even through his fists. The problem with Chuck had never been silence. Not until now.

It had been nearly 36 hours since the battle of the breach, and Chuck– loud, volatile, egotistical Chuck- had hardly said anything.

There was too much in his head. Too much anger, too much frustration and too many questions he didn't want to answer. So he wrapped himself in silence, like Mako had always done.

_Has always done_, the stubborn part of his mind bit back defiantly.

He refused to believe what happened. What every sensor on Striker Eureka and in the LOCCENT had screamed at him to accept: that Gipsy Danger was gone and had taken Mako and Stacker with it.

It wasn't supposed to be that way and his whole being was rebelling against such a possibility.

After all, Stacker had been their fixed point throughout this whole damn thing. Chuck had never had the fondness for the old pilot that others on base had, but he at least respected the importance of his presence. Stacker had been the hand of God, the last man standing holding back the storm long enough for the Jaeger program to complete its purpose. Who knew all of what that man had done to ensure the program's survival for that final mission? Chuck had to at least be grateful for that, for being given that one last chance.

But Stacker had never been meant to actually participate in it. He was supposed to be the voice on the other side, barking orders and feeding them information. He was never meant to jockey again.

But of course; it could never be that simple.

Chuck had felt a rare twinge of fear and foreboding the moment he saw Leatherback light up and blast them with what they later learned was an EMP. And they all realized that with Striker out of commission there had only been one other option: Gipsy Danger.

Gipsy had been magnificent. And though Chuck hated to admit it, he could tell just how well Mako and Raleigh worked together. They'd been amazing against the two Kaiju, but when they'd engaged Otachi and were taken for a flight, they'd been unprepared. Though they'd managed to mostly stabilize the fact remained that, when they fell, they had fallen more on Raleigh's side. As a result, he'd reinjured his shoulder. Despite all the trouble they'd gone through to get him back, Raleigh was benched right before the final battle.

The moment Chuck heard the news, he knew nothing good could come of it. He'd hated to think it and couldn't even admit it out loud, but during the Hong Kong fight, Chuck had- at last– actually begun to build up some faith and respect for Raleigh and his fighting skills. He had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, Raleigh and Mako could actually help him and his father pull the impossible mission off.

But just as such faith was built, it was torn down again when Raleigh was taken out of the picture. And of course, noble and stubborn man that he was, Stacker volunteered to pilot Gipsy with Mako, despite the whispers that doing so would kill him.

Upon hearing the news Chuck had felt a weight in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't explain. He shouldn't have been concerned; after all Mako and Stacker had both proven themselves to be capable in battle. Yet he was, even though he knew he had no right to be.

Chuck and Mako weren't exactly friends; in fact they weren't exactly anything to each other anymore. It seemed a lifetime ago that he'd entered the Jaeger academy, cocky and arrogant on the outside, unsure and desperate to prove himself on the inside. He'd never been the best at making friends and now it was worse. His teachers claimed he pushed people away, and those he didn't offend just saw him as the angry son of a better Jaeger pilot.

But somehow, he and Mako had been thrown together. Maybe because she was also, in a way, a jaeger pilot's kid. Or maybe it was because she was the only one patient enough. However, more often than not, the two fell together. They'd team up for group projects, as sparring partners in training and somehow they balanced each other out.

She was quiet where he was loud; she was controlled where he was a loose cannon; she was respectful where he was rebellious. But yet they were united in other ways: they both had lost so much and both had such anger– while she just internalized what he wore on his sleeve. And they were determined; determined not to fail, determined to avenge what they lost by piloting a Jaeger. Somewhere along the way, the idea had formed that they might pilot together. They passed enough scans and tests to prove it could work. They spent enough time together, fighting in the Kwoon and studying late into the night that they had fallen into a rhythm. But it all stopped the day Chuck was assigned to pilot Striker Eureka with Herc instead.

Chuck had been torn. On one hand, he had finally gotten what he'd been fighting for years to become: a proper Ranger and a Jaeger of his own.

But he'd never wanted to be his father's wingman. While grateful to his old man for saving his life all those years ago and for selecting him now, there was too much bitterness and animosity between them for him to say he was happy about being assigned as his dad's co-pilot. He'd expected –no, he wanted– it to be Mako. It had been the two of them from nearly day one; it seemed a near betrayal to abandon that.

And he tried, tried to convince Stacker and Herc and anyone else who would listen that he should be with someone more compatible who'd received the same kind of training as him. But Stacker refused. He said Mako wasn't ready, that Chuck was and that was that. Chuck thought it was bull shit and wasn't afraid to say so– loudly, disrespectfully, and often; as was the usual with him. Eventually, he was loud enough that he was told if he didn't shut up, he would lose his shot at being a Ranger altogether.

Then, and only then would he allow himself to be quiet. But not Mako. After the initial resistance, she was silent, which infuriated Chuck more than anything. It made him wonder why he was fighting so hard for a co-pilot who wasn't even trying herself. So he yelled at her, yelled at her to fight. She gave him the 'it wasn't her fight line' and that's when he stopped trying. So he left; he transferred to Australia with his father without a look in the rearview. It was at least a year before they even saw each other again and, as if by some unspoken consent, they never brought up the past. He didn't because it only made him angrier. She didn't, because she didn't see the point.

But now… now, he wished he'd at least apologized for cutting her off. It was wishy-washy, useless and he hated that he felt that way, but he did. There wasn't a hole where she was, he wasn't that sort. He'd soldier on, he always had. But for now, even with all his anger, there was nothing to say.

All that was left were the words he didn't say when he realized what Gipsy intended to do. He'd had the chance, as Stacker and Herc relayed final words, but he said nothing. He was loud and angry Chuck; yet he couldn't find any words then, and so there were no words for him now.

He'd wanted to be angry at Raleigh, for hurting his arm and not being there, but he couldn't. Some part of him knew that if Raleigh had been there, he would have taken care of Mako, because he understood exactly who Mako was and how precious she was. He wasn't saying Stacker didn't –the man did raise her for God's sake– but he had been a dead man walking in Chuck's book, and the moment he stepped into a jaeger, he was done for. They all knew that and felt sorry about it; Chuck just hated him for taking Mako down with him.

And Herc just didn't know what to say. Chuck hardly listened to him at the best of times. And this was so far past that that Herc felt sufficiently out of his depth and thus thought it best to just let him be, in the hopes that his son would get past it. Nearly the entire Shatterdome was content to follow the suit of their new Marshall and leave Chuck to stew in his silence alone. All but two members, that is.

The first wasn't a surprise; it left Chuck unsure of whether he should thank or punch whoever let his bulldog roam free on the base but there Max was, by his side. It had only been about 6 hours since the battle and Chuck had been cleared by the medical staff and quickly debriefed when Max appeared, loyal and comforting as always. Chuck had been nearly overcome with his anger, relief and sadness that he needed to be alone to clear his head. He'd wandered at first, no real goal in mind when he'd found himself at the little observation deck just above the old war clock. In times past, technicians and commanders would observe the whole of the Shatterdome from there– to make reports and suggest changes as well as repair the war clock as needed. Now it was all silent. There was no bustling in this quadrant of the base. There were no repairs to be made; there were no Jaegers. Even the war clock was silent.

Ever since Chuck had been transferred to Hong Kong, the constant ticking of the war clock had served as a reminder, a reminder that they were fighting for their lives. It egged him on and challenged him to always keep moving because there was always something waiting on the horizon; there was always something he was moving towards. And now there was nothing.

And as Chuck sat with his legs dangling just above the war clock, one arm resting on the railing, the other scratching Max's head, he found the prospect bittersweet. Of course he was glad the Kaiju threat was over, he just never figured he'd be around to see it. He always thought he'd go out in a blaze of glory and yet here he was feeling completely unglorious and empty.

Hours passed –not that the war clock recorded it– and decisions were made. Words, such as 'future' and 'plans' had considerably more weight now that the Kaiju were gone. Yet, they meant very little to Chuck. He slept on the couch in the observation deck and used that bathroom. He had no desire to return to his bunk; doing so would mean walking through crowded corridors and facing the old useless thoughts he'd thought back in his room. He didn't want any of that. He just needed the silence.

So when the second intruder found him, he was afraid that his one comfort would be taken away. But Raleigh didn't say a word, he just put a tray of food down beside Chuck before sitting down and eating from his own.

Chuck kept expecting Raleigh to speak- to ask questions that Chuck didn't know how to answer, to give placating lies, to ask him to leave, to blame him, to punch him; anything. But just like Mako had been back at the academy when Chuck and Mako would sit preparing for a final, Raleigh was silent. And that's when Chuck realized: Raleigh didn't speak for the same reason Chuck didn't. There was nothing to say.

Raleigh had been in the command hub throughout the mission and knew what happened. He didn't blame Chuck. Raleigh also, thankfully, knew how pointless it would've been to ask how he was doing. Chuck finally figured Raleigh had sought him out particularly for the silence. Raleigh had been Mako's co-pilot, and as such he must have realized how close Chuck and she had once been and knew that Chuck was one of the few people on base who would understand how Raleigh felt about losing Mako. How, in the face of such a loss, words were superfluous and unnecessary.

And so they sat in silence with Max at Chuck's side like always. Neither looking at the other, or doing anything but dealing with what happened in the only way either really could at the moment.

Without the clock, Chuck wasn't sure how much time had passed before the sound of footsteps tore through his silence. Both men looked up; Raleigh with concern at the urgency, and Chuck with irritation at the interruption.

It was Tendo. His face was flushed and his normally slicked back hair was askew from his exertion.

Chuck was about to growl at him to leave, but the newcomer spoke before he could be dismissed.

"There you guys are! We've been looking for you everywhere. You have to get to command quick!"

"What is it?" Raleigh asked quickly as they rose to their feet.

"We found something." Tendo replied, before rushing back out of the room.

Chuck's anger was rising again. Despite this, he and Raleigh followed after him and Chuck had to convince himself he wasn't doing it just so that he could hit Choi for being vague.

But they were moving, heading towards something and Chuck was at least grateful for that; even if he didn't know what it was he was running towards.

When they finally screeched to a halt just behind the technician, he was slightly out of breath and more than a little anxious. But he didn't feel numb for once so there was at least that.

"What the hell is so damn important?" Chuck barked out while taking a sweep of the room. There was a bustle about the command hub that used to accompany movement in the breach, but seeing the look on his father's face when Chuck entered the room was enough to give him pause.

Tendo was about to answer, but catching the look from father to son, he decided to let the new Marshall instead.

"Ten minutes ago one of our analysts picked up a sort of signal deep out at sea." Herc informed them, being very careful with how much he said.

The men both picked up on Herc's attempts to tread lightly and as Chuck couldn't figure out how to speak without biting someone's head off, he let Raleigh ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue.

"What sort of signal? " Raleigh evenly asked. There was a spark beginning to light behind his eyes.

"Intermittent flashing lights," Tendo answered, as he was better suited for addressing his American friend instead of the angry Australian. "We believe its old Morse Code."

"What does it say?" Raleigh asked, as Chuck was having difficulty forming words.

"We only just got the full message. The lights are flashing slowly, but it says 'SOS. Escape pod malfunctioned. SOS.'" Tendo breathed as though unsure that he was reading it correctly, " 'I imagined it differently'."

Chuck got all the answer he needed as to who escaped in the way Raleigh immediately dropped his shoulders, his face washed with pure relief. Raleigh didn't say a word. It was Chuck who barely whispered, "Mako."

Something lifted from Chuck –a weight and some of the anger– which left him short of breath.

"We deployed the choppers, but weren't sure which one it was." Tendo continued after giving the two pilots a moment to respond. "They should be here soon."

A ripple of applause broke out across the LOCCENT command, but Chuck didn't join in. The fact that they were going to get her was all he needed to hear before he was out the door. He was halfway to the helipad before he even realized what he was doing.

It was dark outside when he exited the Shatterdome and some reasonable part of his brain realized that they probably only saw the light because of that. Though there was hardly any logic to be found in standing outside in the January chill in nothing but the T-shirt and sweatpants the medical ward had issued him, he didn't care. He didn't even know why he had to be there or why it couldn't wait for him to retrieve proper clothing, but he couldn't get his feet to move even if he wanted to.

Suddenly, he felt a thick woolen jacket pulled over his shoulders, causing Chuck to start. He turned to see his father, bundled appropriately, as opposed to him, looking at him in a way that could only be described as fatherly. Chuck also caught a glimpse of Raleigh –close to him and his father, his eyes fixed on the horizon– wearing a coat of his own over his sweater with Tendo and even the scientists as well as a fair gathering of PPDC workers off at a respectful distance. The sight almost made Chuck want to smirk, but he was too full of nerves and fear for that.

In the moments that followed, it seemed as if the whole Shatterdome was holding its breath as the choppers sent out to the site of the signal flew closer and closer. Chuck didn't know what he was doing or what he expected to happen upon her arrival but he did know he just had to see her– he had to see for his own eyes what all of Striker's gauges had failed to show him when Gipsy had blown: that she'd survived. He just needed that more than he could say or explain.

As the distance between the choppers and the base closed, the whirring of the helicopter blades set the pace of his heart and everything from the chatter behind him; to the wind, the ocean and even Chuck's own head was far from silent.

And then the rescue team landed, the paramedics rushing to the lead chopper obscuring the passengers from view. Chuck could only stand there, numb with fear that they'd been too late, that the cold night air had paralyzed her, that she was beyond saving. Just when he was about to start cursing for lack of any better occupation, a medic shifted, leaning down to adjust the wheeled bed they had waiting, and he saw her. Her cheeks were pale and she appeared to have an injured leg, but her eyes were open and she was so very much alive.

All the breath rushed out of Chuck at once, and if he'd been a weaker man, he might have collapsed; but he held his ground, feeling the world that had been so out of whack the past day and a half finally beginning to still. The medics shooed everyone away to clear a path. With the knowledge that she was alive, the crowd erupted into applause again before they quickly dispersed.

And Chuck found his legs moving again, following the stretcher nearly blindly as it made its way to the medical ward. And once again, he was not alone, he found Herc and Raleigh on either side of him keeping stride and the thought oddly comforted him.

When they arrived at the infirmary, the doctors could tell why they were there and told them to wait until they had an update. So the three of them waited; with Herc and Raleigh sitting in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs while Chuck stood. He had adrenaline or something like it rushing through him, keeping him from allowing idleness.

And finally after a time that seemed longer than it was a competent looking, dark-skinned woman in scrubs approached them through the infirmary doors. Mako was alive and she was stable. She'd received a blow to the head in the blast –hence the delay in her attempt to communicate– she'd also broken her leg when the escape pod warped, and she had a mild case of hypothermia and dehydration as well. However, given the proper treatment and rest, she'd be fine. The doctor informed them that they were allowed to see her, but the medicine they'd given her had left her pretty out of it.

Raleigh followed the doctor immediately, but suddenly Chuck couldn't move. What was he even doing there? What would he even say? He was afraid- afraid of how thinking she'd died had affected him. And he was afraid, because discovering her survival continued to affect him. He'd always been so sure of himself, never allowing himself distractions or girlfriends or any of that stuff. But what did he have now? He had confusion and doubt and no idea what to do next.

Maybe it was a result all the times they'd drifted together, but there his father was beside him, like he knew what Chuck was thinking. And Chuck just looked at him, like that little boy Herc had pulled out of his school all those years ago: fear and uncertainty clear in his eyes.

Herc put a hand on his shoulder, grounding the swirl of doubts in Chuck's head, "Don't think, just go." He smirked in a bittersweet way before adding, "You were always good at that."

And for once, Chuck was grateful for his father's advice, but he was never good at expressing gratitude. So he nodded, half in acknowledgement, half to steady himself, before walking through those doors to Mako's room.

Raleigh, was already there of course, seated beside her, relief and happiness in his eyes as he held her hand, clearly needing the physical reassurance that she was really there. Her eyes were bleary and it was clear she was fighting not to close them with fatigue, but when Chuck entered, she held them open and drank in the sight of him.

"I'm sorry," he couldn't help but blurt out. It was completely the wrong time and he didn't even know for sure what he was apologizing for, but all he'd been able to think about since he thought he'd watched her die was how stupid his pride had been, that he'd never apologized. That he'd let his ego and his anger come between him and someone who had once meant so much to him. So the words had just spilled out, as if he was afraid that if waited any longer this miracle, this second chance, would be taken away from him and he'd never get to say it.

Initially, Mako seemed surprised at the outburst. Then her eyes softened and she said simply, "We chose our own paths and there is no room for regret."

She didn't tell him he didn't need to apologize; she didn't say 'about time.' In her own Mako-ish way, she let him know she'd forgiven him a long time ago, but she was still glad to hear him say it.

He cracked the first true smile he'd probably had in about a week, "You still sound like a fortune cookie."

She narrowed her eyes at the old joke from their training days, reminding him lightly in her own teasing way, "That's Chinese, you ass."

They stared at each other for another few seconds before they both laughed leaving Chuck feeling seventeen again. Raleigh looked between them both, his own kind, all-American boy smile spreading across his face at the joviality. Having been in Mako's head, he'd heard it all– it was a joke to him too.

And as Chuck went to sit at her other side, he felt the previously spinning world finally balance itself out. Their laughter and the steady sound of her heart monitor filling the silence, a silence that her being missing had caused, were reason enough to allow himself to breathe again.

**Author's Note: Okay, and there we have it. I don't even know what happened but I think I like it.**

**Credit where credit is due, I got the idea for Chuck and Mako being previously drift compatible from Rose's fics but it's my headcanon now and I wanted to play with it in my own little way.**

**Okay I hope you all liked it, please let me know what you think!**


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